


Fucking Subpar

by overcastthursday



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And my own feelings, Angst, Artist Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Dancer Natasha Romanov, Deaf Clint Barton, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Emotions, Feelings, Hurt, I Blame Tumblr, Inspired By Tumblr, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Self-Esteem Issues, Skinny Steve, is implied (but not explained)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-20 21:36:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10671261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overcastthursday/pseuds/overcastthursday
Summary: "As you probably follow me, my name is Clint. I’m older than most you kids that are on this website (because I’m 25). My favorite color is purple. ... I’m pretty good at archery, I guess. But in all reality, I’m not really good at anything else. Let me elaborate."





	Fucking Subpar

**Author's Note:**

> I used an ablest term in passing (directed at Clint in the past).
> 
> There is definitely some negligence to children, but not in a graphic way (Clint wasn't in school as a kid).
> 
> If you squint, you can see an old Stucky AU I rp'ed in the past.
> 
> This was a cathartic writing experience that I wrote last year, and then I revisited it with fresh eyes and new angst.

Clint stared at his screen, the cursor blinked at him, waiting...calling... for him to start typing. Urging him to pour everything out.

“Fuck you, tumblr,” He grumbled, biting his lip. He put his hands on the keyboard and sighed, pulling them away, scrubbing them across his face, feeling the stubble that was inevitable after two days of not leaving his bedroom. (Snack stashes come in handy sometimes.)

This was supposed to be a cathartic activity, right? He groaned, settling his fingers on the keys. He squeezed his fingers into his palms, feeling his blunt nails dig into the skin just a little. “Fuck it.”

[Disclosure 1: I was told that writing your feelings out is supposed to be soothing. That’s why therapists, stereotypically (I had to look up how to spell that, shit), suggest that people keep a journal about their feelings, right? Hopefully, this clears shit up in my head, but God knows, it might just make everything worse. Like antidepressants you know? “May cause side effects, including suicidal thoughts.” What kind of help is that?

Disclosure 2: Please, for the love of God, do not reblog this post. Reply to it, message me, like it, or send me asks about it, for the love of fucking God… Please don’t. I don’t need my dirty laundry all over this fucking website because I’m a fucking pathetic loser who dumped his feelings into one post. I don’t need any fake pity either. I’ve gotten enough of that in my life.

Disclosure 3: I used real people’s URLs in this post, but didn’t tag them. AND DON’T FUCKING TAG THEM, IF THEY READ IT THEY READ IT IF THEY DON’T THEY THEY DON’T. None of what I have to say about anyone, other than myself, is negative.Hating people is a waste of fucking time. Unless it’s hating yourself, that’s different, and only applies to me.

This leads me to what I’ve written. A long-ass, honest rant about self-loathing (not focused on disabilities, they just make a guest appearance with a touch of ableist language while quoting someone) is below the cut. Read or not. Your fucking choice.

\----

So, yeah. Here you are for the rant.

As you probably follow me, my name is Clint. I’m older than most you kids that are on this website (because I’m 25). My favorite color is purple. I have hearing loss and am fortunate to have hearing aids that work really well (which is more than a lot of people can say, and I have access to prototype tech that’s been made for my ears) and am fluent in ASL. I’m pretty good at archery, I guess. But in all reality, I’m not really good at anything else. Let me elaborate.

I am in school because school wasn’t a part of my childhood. I mean, I grew up in a performing and travelling “family” who adopted me from my biological dad, who couldn’t take care of “a cripple” (me) and “a troublemaker” (my brother). I got adopted out because they needed someone small, and he needed the cash. (Yes, I was paid for.) Anyway, I grew up with a bunch of people that make all performing groups look bad, didn’t attend school (we travelled too much for the paperwork to ever matter), and learned some weird skills that no one needs in regular life.

I got out, which I’ve discussed before. (The friend of mine [and ex] who I was supposed to pull a long con on, but he was a government agent and gave me immunity to testify?)

So, at 25, I’m looking into figuring out what the fuck I’m doing with my life.

Gee, you think to yourself, aren’t a lot of people finishing school later, Clint?

Yeah, I guess, but I still feel pretty fucking shitty about it. All of the people that I know who are my age are finally starting to settle into their adult jobs and I’m over here, in school and learning about how to write like an adult. When I first was pulled out, I could barely write my own name (and not in cursive, like preschool level writing ability) or read (I could lie my way into getting people to read shit for me). I owe my life to my friend. Reading is still hard, and I’m last to order at restaurants usually, but writing, like this isn’t too bad, because fuck grammar, ya know?

Why did I have to take the long-ass road to get where I want to go? Everyone knows that the long-road makes you a stronger person, Clint. Fuck that. If you know anything about my past, you know that things have not been easy up to this point. But then I ask myself: Clint, why did you think it would ever get easier, you fucking idiot?

Right now, I work a job. It is not a career. I only get a maximum of 15 hours a week, maybe more if I don’t have school work and someone else is out of town. And I teach tiny humans archery. That shit don’t pay the bills. This is not conducive to saving money, at all. 

Enough about fucking finances and shit like that. I have other, not reasonable things that I am also fucking outset about.

I am horrifically average to sub-par at everything.

Yes, I know that I said earlier than I am good at archery, but that isn’t going to do anything for me, ever. Like, it’s a cool thing on my resume, but I don’t go bow hunting, so it’s more like a completely pointless thing to be good at.

Let’s look at strvxling’s art.(My favorite is this one.) He’s fucking amazing. (S, don’t you get all fucking coy with me.) He does commissions, starting a comic, and saving to take art classes. S wants to make a career out of his art, and he is that fucking good. S will draw bionicbatman little fucking doodles that look amazing and he will be like “I spent like 5 minutes on this, it’s terrible!” Whereas, if I try to draw anything, it looks like a fucking 5 year old did it (yeah, yeah, fine motor skills weren’t developed until I was order, whatever).

Will I ever be able to art? Nope.

bionicbatman is a major fucking nerd. He’s so frickin’ smart when it comes to science and school, like, what the fuck. (He needs to be a science teacher because even I can understand when he teaches me science.) He’s also great at writing fic, even though he complains that it’s terrible (Read anything on his ao3, here.) Bucky’s writing is fucking descriptive as fuck. He’s flowery and really explains emotions in a way that makes sense to everyone. Like, how even, bro? His drabbles, found here, are also really good because he captures what he’s looking for in such a way that he doesn’t need a lot of words to move the plot forward and can use up the words to describe the setting and tone. Like, fuck me, how is the guy so good? (Sidenote: Fanfic is a great way to practice reading if you’re bad at it. *points at self*)

Writing? I’m shit. Obviously, based on what I told you. If you’ve made it this far, you’re a fucking hero.

Then there’s the mother of all people that I feel inadequate next to, like holy fucking shit.

scrimalaseconde is my best friend in real life, and she’s a fucking superstar. Nat is a fucking ballerina, she’s amazing with a camera, and she’s hella rad (physically and mentally and emotionally, basically in all the ways possible). (Look at her blog, it’s so fucking cool, and she coded the whole fucking thing too.) Nat makes me feel like a loser for even trying being her friend (half the time I piss her off instead of cheering her up. I have bruises to prove it.). I have gone to every single one of her recitals since my friend introduced us, and I was in a weird place (long hair, only signing and not speaking, refusing to work on school work, locking myself in my bathroom, etc). We are the m/f friends that everyone is like “Are you dating?” and we respond, in unison, “Does it fucking matter?”

My friends are super fucking cool. I am just kind of there, you know?

Anyway, so recently, bionicbarnes decided to start a skype group because of his love for Kylux. I, having rped the Ben Fuckin’ Solo to his Armitage (because rping is fun and it’s a way to practice writing, mmk?). I joined said group and at first is was like me, bucky, and someone else. There are like seven people in the group now, and everyone was like “here’s my work” and I’m like “oh fuck, i have nothing that is this amazing to share.” (Obviously, because I learned how to write sentences at 21.) I let the convo move on and dropped in the link to my ao3 (which I’m not going to give you). No surprise, no one commented on it, and I’m a little hurt, but my ao3 is a piece of shit anyway, for reasons previously explained.

So, as we get going into the conversation, I am finding that I should not be in this group. Everyone is fucking amazing at what they do. I just rp sometimes (and only with people who know about my crap) and can randomly create headcanons, that no one gives a shit about because I love you guys, but I only reblog things or bitch about my life. No original content here.

So that leads to me, feeling a complete fucking waste of a url. I want to be good at something. Sure, I can try to draw more and write more because practicing helps, but when I’m too fucking ashamed to show a beta, why the fuck would I even think about putting in on my goddamn blog or ao3? I’m just going to fucking embarrass myself, so why even fucking try? The shit I create looks ridiculous and immature next to the shit that all of these other creators. (Obviously, my writing leaves something to be desired since I haven’t been doing sentences as long as anyone else.)

So, it boils down to: Clint is a real fucking subpar fucking human for reasons that are both his fault and not his fault. He has no ability to create anything reasonable so he’s not going to fucking try anymore. Why should I try if what I make is going to be a flaming pile of’ shit that no one wants to see anyway?

End Rant.]

Clint looked at his hands as they shook against the keyboard. He pressed “discard” and shut his laptop. Tears prickled his eyes as he pushed his laptop onto his bedside table, pulled Wolfie to his chest and his blanket over his head as the tears freely rolled out of his eyes.

No one would read his post. No one would give a shit about the inadequacies of Clinton Francis Barton, aka 4realhawkeye. So why even scream into the void?

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! (I wrung my hands a few times in the process of posting this.)
> 
> Feel free to leave kudos or comments.


End file.
